


i'd be doin' alright if it wasn't for the nights

by SafelyCapricious



Series: ain't no grave can hold my body down [18]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, BAMF Hermione Granger, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Marriage Law Challenge, Multi, Post-Canon, Sabotage, brought back to life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:55:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27094657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SafelyCapricious/pseuds/SafelyCapricious
Summary: Hermione, the book, and the copy of the ridiculous marriage law, return to Kingsley, where he confirms what she believes.She returns to the table in the burrow -- most of her earlier breakfast companions are still there, as well as a few new scorch marks on the table. The scorch marks she ignores as she unrolls the law and places her book on the scarred surface.“I’ve got a plan.”
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Harem
Series: ain't no grave can hold my body down [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1950148
Comments: 33
Kudos: 81





	i'd be doin' alright if it wasn't for the nights

**Author's Note:**

> Trans rights are human rights. 
> 
> Title from If It Wasn’t for the Nights by ABBA b/c I've been doing an ABBA marathon today for some reason. 
> 
> Uh, marriage law, harem fic, idk what else to tell you. 
> 
> For runes, day eighteen of fictober.

Hermione took a deep breath and centered herself and her magical core. She closed her eyes because she didn’t like to see the sneer of the Ministry representative who had come to watch her perform the spell. The Minister of Magic was, of course, fine with the spell she’d managed to find that could outwit the stupid law, but the Wizengamot -- those who had voted to enact the law in the first place -- were less than thrilled. Luckily for her, and the others who had already completed the spell and not had any husbands appear, their hands were tied.

Hermione had helped the other three -- McGonagall had insisted going first, to ensure the safety of the ritual, and then Andromeda Tonks and Katie Bell had been granted leave to attempt the spell before Hermione herself -- set up their circles, but hadn’t needed any assistance on her own. It certainly wasn’t her favorite way to do a spell -- having to draw out all those concentric circles and runes around her -- but at least they hadn’t needed to be done entirely in blood. And probably more importantly, at least the blood hadn’t needed to be completely fresh, just wet.

(Admittedly, trying to explain phlebotomy had taken her the better part of a day, and she was still fairly sure that everyone but Harry thought she’d made the word up, if not the activity.)

The blood magic didn’t require a wand to be used, and in fact it had been recommended against, and as such her wand was being held by Headmistress McGonagall, who was being so kind as to stand in for family. Mrs. and Mr. Weasley would’ve also been happy to, she was sure, had the Ministry not scheduled both hers and Ginny’s attempt at the spell at the same time -- which she felt was an unnecessary power play.

So Headmistress McGonagall was holding her wand and observing the events from the farthest point in the room -- as required by the Ministry -- even as the little toad they had watching her was looming just beyond the outermost circle of runes.

Hermione shifted slightly, until she was sure she was facing true North, and then she chanted the spell. She kept her eyes shut, waited for seven heartbeats, and then did a quarter turn until she was facing East. Again she chanted the spell, and waited seven heartbeats before repeating the process at South and then West. Turning back to truth North she repeated the incantation one more time -- and as soon as the last syllable was out of her mouth she felt like she’d stuck her fingers in an electric outlet.

Dimly there was shouting -- Headmistress McGonagall, she was fairly sure, and the knowledge helped her to force her eyes open.

Her mouth tasted like blood, and she wondered if she’d bit her tongue or her cheek.

It took her eyes a moment to make sense of the scene. The Headmistress was standing over a prone figure -- the Ministry representative -- and was summoning her patronus -- three of them, all cats -- that proceeded to scatter through the walls as soon as they’d fully formed.

“He erased the Ehr rune, Miss Granger, and smudged the Teh rune so much it looks more like a Urk.” Headmistress’s McGonagall’s voice was calm and factual -- which Hermione found veryhelpful, even as she wondered if she’d really heard the shouting earlier that she’d thought she had.

Hermione tried to think about what those changes meant, in the sense of the spell, but it was hard to think when she felt like a live wire. She considered trying to _stop_ the spell -- but she wasn’t sure how and was worried an ill thought _‘finite’_ might, in fact, make things worse.

Not that she was sure there _was_ a worse than runes being removed and changed. Especiallily since those runes weren’t close. And to change a Teh to an Urk required erasing an interior component -- not something that would be done easily by stepping on it. So it was probably deliberate sabotage, not incompetence. Though, perhaps, given the Ministry, a little bit of both.

Considering the protection in the Teh that was reversed in the Urk and what the Ehr rune stood for -- “He was trying to kill me?” she asked, after turning the thought over in her head. It made sense though. If the spell killed someone then others wouldn’t want to do it -- and after news of the spell’s success so far, her dying would’ve likely convinced at least some to stop this route and instead go back to following the original intention of the law. Which would, no doubt, make the Wizengamot happy, and was probably why someone had passed down the order to try this.

And it wasn’t that Hermione couldn’t appreciate the data showing decreased birth-rates, for all that everything about the law was nonsense, the data was sound -- she just was never going to let a group of dusty old wizards tell her, or any other witch, that they had to marry and start producing children ‘for the greater good.’

Besides, it wasn’t her fault they’d left in the clause about the Fates getting final judgement on all matters, and that the spell called on the Fates. But removing the word that would’ve killed the castor if no decision was made by the Fates, or if the Fated was already dead, that had been her fault. Not, she thought, that they’d realized the change.

The buzzing grew worse and her skin felt too tight like an overripe fruit and she really didn’t want to die.

She wasn’t going to die.

She refused to die -- she refused to let the Ministry kill her by coming up with this stupid law that took away her choice and then sabotaging her attempt to not allow them that control and --

Hermione was _not_ going to give them the satisfaction of killing her.

It was her core that was causing the feeling, she realized, as she focused, and it was overflowing with power -- not all of which she thought was hers -- not all of which could possibly be hers and -- “Get back.” She managed through gritted teeth, and as soon as she saw McGonagall moving she pointed at one of the runes on the floor. Runes that were drawn in her own blood and -- the magic flowed into the rune easily, maybe too easily and maybe this was what she should’ve been doing the whole time but she didn’t _know_ \-- and she turned and filled another and another and another and by the time she’d made it back to the first she no longer felt like she was filled with lightning and her core was overly bright but stable and --

She collapsed to the floor and caught her breath.

The runes continued to glow -- with crackles of power moving between them -- but that was fine because she definitely wasn’t going to die. Except that she most certainly couldn’t get out of the circle while the runes continued to do whatever they were doing -- were they getting brighter? -- and she really wanted to leave the room at some point in the near future and especially she wanted to get out of the wool shift she had to wear -- which with the heat was becoming uncomfortable and itchy -- and wash the blood runes off her arms.

Absently she scratched at one of them and then brushed off the flaking blood.

The glowing runes were starting to hum lightly, which was a little concerning and if she had access to a book she definitely would’ve been trying to figure out what the hell was going on but mostly she was just too glad to be alive to be overly concerned. She could handle whatever it was...as long as she was alive.

The humming didn’t seem loud, but then she realized there were people beyond the circle trying to talk to her-- or she thought they might be? She squinted her eyes and there were definitely more dark blurs beyond the circle of light than just McGonagall at this point. But she couldn’t make out features, really. It reminded her of how the world had looked when she’d been Harry, before she’d put on a pair of glasses. All flesh colored blurs in dark blurs she assumed were robes. And the blurs were all making noise, noise that was maybe words -- had that sounded like her name? -- but it all sounded like it was being said underwater and from a great distance and also maybe not in a language she spoke -- which was a little alarming since the circle wasn’t _that_ large and they weren’t _that_ far away from her -- and yet-- it was like she could almost understand what they were saying but not quite and --

One of the runes shot up like a muggle roman candle and then another and then she’d tucked her face into the curve of her knees and had her head covered with her arms -- glad at least she’d had to tightly braid her hair back so it didn’t interfere and thus was less likely to catch fire.

There wasn’t any change in the noise but she could feel the heat of whatever was happening and so she stayed tucked, because she wasn’t sure if the temperature was returning to normal or if she’d just gotten used to the hotter temperature somehow.

Her hearing came back with a rush like a waterfall and she realized she hadn’t been able to hear even her own breaths before this -- but now she could and she was not surprised that her pants were actually quite loud.

“Where am I?” asked a vaguely familiar voice.

“This must be hell,” said another that was more familiar but no...that didn’t...

“Well that’s definitely where _you_ belong,” said one she didn’t recognize at all, which was actually a relief.

The relief was short lived, however, as she looked up from her knees and saw who was staring down at her. She craned her neck and...yes. More behind her.

She stared at them as they stared at her -- and it suddenly occurred to her just what removing the Ehr rune, and changing the Teh rune (McGonagall had said it had been turned to an Urk, but she was wondering if it could, instead, be a Kek, which was similar to the Urk but with an extra very small dot, and would make more sense for what she was seeing, though she’d have to do research to be sure) meant when that single syllable was removed, to keep her from dying in the attempt. Or it would’ve made more sense if the whole thing wasn’t absolutely insane.

It was a cold comfort that without the removal of that syllable she would most definitely be dead from the changes, if what she was seeing was actually _right_ and not an extremely convincing hallucination.

This might’ve been a worse outcome than the stupid law itself.

She considered the wizards looking down at her and decided she very much wanted to faint.

Unfortunately her magic was still spiking all over the place and if not for the shock and just general dislike of the activity she was fairly sure she could have run a marathon. Also problematic was the fact that she’d never fainted in her life except when she was so feverish that she was virtually knocking on death’s door.

But she decided to give it a try anyways, because it seemed like the day for unlikely things to happen, and so she let her eyes flutter before going limp, falling backwards.

She was rather expecting to hit her head, but hands caught her -- which was probably good, she wasn’t sure if she could’ve kept up the pretense of a faint after cracking her head, but it had seemed worth the risk. (And only part of her thought the knock on the head might’ve helped encourage her unconsciousness and that might’ve been nice. It was a very small part of her.)

There were more hands, then, and the only reason she didn’t say anything or stop pretending was that no one was touching anything remotely inappropriate -- and then she was being lifted up and she had to fight the urge to hold on or look at who it was.

Because she was still fairly sure that the people she had seen -- the ones she could recognize at least -- couldn’t possibly be there.

“Turn your head against my chest, kitten, and try to stay relaxed if you want to keep playing unconscious,” was said softly enough she was decently sure she was the only one to hear it and as she obliged and tried to hide her face against him while staying limp she wondered if Sirius Black even recognized her. He had called her kitten before -- though it hadn’t been limited to her and he’d called her other names as well, as it seemed habitual for him.

And she couldn’t decide if him carrying her made it more or less likely that he recognized her. But that was a problem that she didn’t have to deal with right now -- so she added it to the mental pile of ‘all of this’ and decided not to worry about it until she absolutely had to.

Instead she tried to do what he’d said, turning her head and making sure not to grip him even though the urge was strong as with her eyes closed she couldn’t see what was happening, and he’d taken a few steps but she wasn’t sure where and it was disorienting.

She tried to focus on him, to limit the disorientation, but it didn’t help much. He was warm, which seemed odd since she was fairly sure the dead shouldn’t be -- but then she wasn’t entirely sure he was dead anymore, was she? He was breathing -- which she was fairly positive the dead didn’t need to do, and she could hear the beat of his heart which really did seem to indicate that he probably wasn’t dead.

Either that or she was having a particularly vivid daydream -- which seemed unlikely -- or perhaps some sort of magic brought on hallucination -- which seemed entirely possible.

The noise around her slowly started to condense into voices and words she could actually understand, although there seemed to be a great amount of talking over one another which was making it a bit hard to parse. She tried to focus on a single voice that was gaining volume, and then regretted it almost immediately.

“How dare you accuse one of our finest --” Hermione recognized the voice and was glad no one was likely to see the grimace that crossed her face as she’d been told repeatedly that he ‘wasn’t that bad’ and ‘just a bit stuck in his ways’ and any number of other things to try to excuse his behavior.

“I dare,” said a far more welcome voice, and Hermione could feel herself relaxing at Headmistress McGonagall’s firm tone, “because the options are either incompetence or deliberate sabotage. And as you yourself have told us _numerous_ times about his competence, I have to believe it to be sabotage. And given your defense of him, I’m inclined to believe your own involvement in the scheme, if not actively than passively, and it will not be borne.”

“Listen here! You can’t just accuse me of -- I am not a school child and I will not be spoken to by you like that!” the Under Secretary said, venom dripping from every word and Hermione was fairly sure if she had her wand she’d hex the man for the tone. The arms holding her tightened for a moment and what she could only call a growl came from Sirius, before she found herself being placed into another set of arms. (Still warm, heart unknown since her head was against the wrong side of his chest, but breathing obvious, so likely not dead either. The hallucination thing was still a strong possibility, however.)

She probably needed to actually deal with things then, if they weren’t being allowed to leave, which is what it sounded like. She very much wanted to leave. And maybe have a panic attack and some tea -- ideally with McGonagall who would, she felt, help her make some sense of the situation and also point out what was or was not a hallucination. Hermione tried to motivate herself to open her eyes and enter the fray, but gave herself another few moments to enjoy the lack of responsibility.

Unfortunately before she could, the Under Secretary continued, “Miss Granger needs to be in _Ministry_ custody, and the lot of you need to be locked up until we know --” Whatever he was going to finish with was cut off by a chorus of denials -- and the snarl that came from the chest she was against was significantly more violent than the one that had come from Sirius, causing her to open her eyes and --

Professor Lupin’s grip on her wasn’t tight, but she was fairly sure that no one was going to take her away from him, and his lips were pulled back in a snarl that was a bit more threatening than she’d ever seen him. She’d always had trouble thinking of him as a werewolf, even taking into account the fact that she’d actively seen him transform that one nightmarish night, but with him like this it seemed infinitely more believable. Which should have scared her, by rights, but instead she just found herself oddly comforted.

For all that the Ministry wasn’t overrun with Death Eaters anymore, she had only negative associations with their ‘custody’ and had no intentions of being put in it. She was sure Minister Kingsley wouldn’t have asked it of her either. He’d tried to talk her into joining the Ministry, and making changes from the inside, and she’d barely made it through the six month trial period without hexing or hitting anyone before leaving to pursue a Mastery instead.

“Now, now, Marcus,” Kingsley’s voice, as always, sent a shiver down her spine. She’d gotten good at concealing the fact, but normally someone wasn’t holding her when it happened. Professor Lupin looked down at her as his expression smoothed into a smile. It was a smile that said ‘I know what affected you,’ and also ‘I don’t blame you for that reaction at all’, with perhaps a bit of ‘it hits us all that way, doesn’t it?’ But maybe she was reading too much into a smile.

It was a good smile though, and it made him look younger or -- actually, now that she was looking at his face from a better angle he just looked younger. Or at least a little less worn and dragged down.

That was kind of nice -- to think that maybe death _was_ peaceful and he’d been able to rest before she’d...somehow brought him back. Back to where it very much wasn’t peaceful...

“I can stand,” she said, softly, as Kingsley tried to talk down the Under Secretary in the background. There were a number of people between her and the showdown -- if that’s what was actually the right term for the disagreement -- and it didn’t seem like anyone but Professor Lupin had even realized she was ‘awake’ now.

His smile softened. This one she didn’t try to put a dialogue behind, even as she felt heat begin to creep into her face. “I’m sure you can.” He agreed readily, but he wasn’t shifting her at all in preparation to let her do so.

“Might be best to stay there, Granger,” said Fred, looking over his shoulder at her with a wink, “might help us speed our way out of here if you’re still all faint-y.”

Her heart lurched slightly because she’d seen him before but it hadn’t -- and it wasn’t that she didn’t still think it might be a hallucination because she did but -- “Ginny!” she realized suddenly and flailed enough that Professor Lupin _had_ to put her down, or risk both of them toppling. And then she was pushing through the backs of the probably-not-dead-currently-but-definitely-dead-at-some-point men until she was face to face with Kingsley, McGonagall, the toady Under Secretary and about twenty other people in a variety of ministry robes.

“Ginny was doing her spell at the same time, Professor,” she said in a rush, ignoring the hands that were holding her back from getting closer to the others, “what if they did the same thing to _her_!”

McGonagall got that pinched look on her face that meant someone was getting detention, and Kingsley swore vividly for a moment before pushing through the group of onlookers, McGonagall on his heels and Hermione on hers. The possibly-hallucinations-probably-not-very-attractive-zombies surrounded her and followed as well. With Fred going so far as to throw an arm over her shoulder and grin. “Catch me up to speed, Granger, what’s going on and why are we worried about Gin?”

She chewed on her lower lip and blew out a frustrated breath. “I don’t know for sure --”

“Come now, Miss Granger, you’re ill suited to playing modest.” Came the mocking drawl that made her want to grind her teeth. Harry had been won over by him in the end, and she would never deny that he was working for their side, and had surely sacrificed quite a bit for the cause of killing Tom -- but that didn’t mean she liked him or even respected him. She’d been doing her best to ignore him because she didn’t want to think about it or what it meant and --

“I don’t know for sure,” she began again, deciding to continue to ignore him, “because I haven’t had the chance to double _check_ , but the spell I was doing was supposed to summon a living individual, best matched for complimentary type magic, if one such individual existed. However,” she said, ignoring someone muttering ‘soulmate’, “some of the runes got...altered. An Ehr was removed and a Teh was changed to either a Urk, or more probably a Kek. And it seems that without the protection of the Ehr and with the...the quality being turned to _quantity…_ ” She started to gnaw on her thumbnail as her mind continued to churn the problem.

“Removing an Ehr from a blood magic ritual should have killed you,” said one of the gentleman she’d never met -- but who was probably Regulus Black and she was trying really hard not to think about what that meant, because she was already having enough trouble with having dragged people back from the grave who she _knew_.

“Yes,” she said, taking a deep breath and darting a look around. They were still in one of the seemingly endless corridors on this level, and the pack of Ministry personnel were circling around Kingsley and McGonagall up ahead and not seemingly listening. “And it probably would have, if I had left the -km on the end of the verb conjugation for join, but, well...”

He laughed, dark and delighted, and she sped up because she didn’t want to deal with her own physical response to the sound. Even as one of the other two who she didn’t recognize -- she had a very good guess that she very much didn’t want to make -- said “Did anyone else understand any of that, or did it sound like nonsense to everyone else too?”

Fred was laughing at her side until she elbowed him, but by then they’d made it to the door and she had more important things to deal with. So following her application of elbow to him she shook him off and then proceeded to forcefully use her elbows (and a kick or two) to navigate to the front of the crowd.

Based on the swearing behind her, even as she politely sidestepped around Kingsley and McGonagall, she suspected that Fred or one of the others had probably followed her path. But checking that was very low on her priority list as she surveyed the room before her -- and felt herself deflate with relief.

Ginny was fine.

She was standing, also still covered with flaking blood in a wool shift, just outside her circle. Luna, who had volunteered to help Ginny with the rune drawing, was standing next to her -- it looked like they’d probably been discussing something before the group of people showing up had distracted them. Mrs. and Mr. Weasley stood off to the side, looking a little concerned. There was a Ministry official collapsed in a heap on the floor just outside the bounds of the circle and between the two groups -- which probably explained both the concern and the discussion.

Hermione found herself the rest of the way across the room without thinking about it, and pulled Ginny into a hug.

“What is it, what happened -- why are there so many people here?” Ginny asked, hugging her back just as tightly -- which was definitely a sign that not everything had gone well for her either.

“The ‘observer’,” Hermione pulled back from the hug and all three of them rolled their eyes at the Ministry’s ever increasing incompetence, “tried to sabotage my circle. Or, well, succeeded -- but I’m fine!”

“Oh yes,” Luna said nodding, “we had that happen too. Or, well, he knocked himself out trying to step over the wards I put around the circle, so that’s what he was probably trying to do.”

Hermione blinked -- and then laughed and pulled her in for a quick hug as well -- purposefully ignoring the fact that her being so touchy-feely was obviously starting to alarm the other two. It was comforting to her, and at this point she needed whatever she could get. “You’re brilliant, Luna! We’ll definitely need to do that for all of them, going forward.”

Luna nodded before glancing over Hermione’s shoulder and frowning. “Are you aware there are seven Wizards attached to you?”

“What…” Ginny peered around her as well, at the same time as Mrs. Weasley’s could be heard saying:“George? What are you...doing...Fred?”

“It’s cheating to use our ears to identify us, you know,” Fred said, and when Hermione looked over her shoulder he was rubbing at his ear, looking oddly self conscious. “But, er, hi mum, dad, Gin.”

Ginny let out a sob before pushing past Hermione and throwing herself into the arms of her now-probably-not-dead-brother. Hermione rather expected Mrs. Weasley to get there first, but instead she was staring at the crowd behind her son and -- oh. Well, she’d been right about that, then.

“Gid...Fabe...what,” Mrs. Weasley said before she too was flying across the room to embrace _her_ now-probably-not-dead-brothers.

“I don’t think there’s ever been a record of seven coming back,” Luna mused, “or, rather, seven being summoned.”

Hermione sighed and twitched her fingers. She was mentally exhausted, but physically still filled with energy...and magic. “I think that’s down to how my circle got ruined,” she said, and then turned so she didn’t have to look at the crowd around the door -- or at the impromptu family reunions taking place, and explained to Luna exactly what runes had been damaged and what her current theories were. McGonagall came over to them, after a few moments, and joined the conversation easily, as Hermione did her best to ignore everything else happening.

Luna was idly wondering about just how ‘alive’ the men were -- McGonagall was rolling her eyes, and despite having been out of school for so long Hermione’s desire to be taken seriously was winning over her desire to find out if Luna had a way to actually _test_ that.

“Excuse me ladies,” Kingsley said -- and Hermione jumped a little, having done an increasingly good job of shutting out outside disturbances (aka reality) for the duration of their discussion. “I need Miss Granger to sign off on her paperwork, and then it will have to be filed, which is likely to draw some notice. So I might advise that you take the opportunity before the inquisition to move everyone elsewhere.”

Hermione grimaced, but accepted the pile of parchment he handed her, but not the quill. She read the first page in full, and then skimmed the second and skipped through the rest, once she was satisfied that each said more or less the same thing. She very much didn’t want to think about the signatures that were already on the documents, or the fact that all of them had seemingly signed without an issue. “I’m not signing,” she said, as she passed the paperwork to McGonagall to look at.

Kingsley arched an eyebrow -- and Hermione was once again jealous over the action that she’d never managed to learn how to do, and no, she was definitely not trying to ignore the seriousness of the situation by fixating on literally anything else -- and crossed his arms. She crossed her arms right back at him -- since that was something she _could_ do. There was nothing he could say that was going to make her take responsibility for seven probably-not-dead-she-was-definitely-going-to-pick-Luna’s-brain-about-how-to-check men. “If you don’t sign then they have to go into Ministry custody.”

...Except that.

“Fine,” she snarled, snatching the quill out of his now outstretched hand and accepting the parchment from McGonagall more calmly. She scribbled her signature on all seven lines, not even trying to keep it consistent from one to the next, before shoving them back at the Minister.

He put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed -- just enough to remind her that despite everything he was on her side. She nodded and then grimaced when she realized she didn’t know where they should go. Apparently Kingsley -- or someone else -- had managed to chase most of the Ministry employees away, and the crowd was now only the seven of her, ugh, bonded, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Ginny, and of course the four of them. Three of the seven, Fred and the Prewett twins, were with the Weasley’s, as Sirius, Professor Lupin and (now that she’d seen his name written she couldn’t deny the fact) Regulus Black talked in another huddle. Professor Snape was leaning against the wall and glowering at all of them and she fought back the desire to reach into the paperwork and tear up where she’d agreed to be responsible for him.

He’d helped them defeat Voldemort, she had to remind herself. And then, when that didn’t make her feel any better, she reminded herself that it was really Dumbledore’s fault that he’d ever been a teacher in the first place, which helped a little more. Not a lot, but enough to make her willing to move forward and try to get them all out of the Ministry ahead of the round of interrogations that would start as soon as the full paperwork was filed -- which had included the Minister signed documents to remove death certificates and reinstate inheritances.

***

Regulus forced himself to stay against the wall and not to fidget, or to stare.

He wanted, more than anything, to cross the room to where _she_ was standing. He didn’t even know her name, which stung. Severus and one of the men whose name he also didn’t know, but he was less bothered about that, had called her “Granger,” or something very like it. He was hoping that was a last name -- or maybe he wasn’t. Would he be expected to take her last name? He wasn’t sure how he felt about Regulus Granger. Maybe she’d be amenable to hyphenation.

He’d seen the way she’d relaxed in his brother’s arms, and the familiarity in his eyes spoke of some sort of shared history which -- Regulus tried not to dwell on what his brother might’ve said about him, in the past, to the witch who now held his existence in the palm of her hand.

The only reason he’d been able to resist going to her and pleading his case was the obvious relief she’d felt when she’d stepped away from the lot of them and gone to join the two other witches by another rune circle. The red-head had the same runes drawn in blood on her skin as _his_ witch did -- he’d been able to gather that they’d both felt they had to do the spell but that whatever interference had taken place that had resulted in his being drawn from death hadn’t been allowed to happen for the red-head.

He wasn’t entirely sure what spell she had used -- though he had a few guesses -- and he’d gone to take a look at the still intact circle before her ignoring of him had stung too much and driven him back to the wall. The blond witch had smiled at him in a rather distracted manner that he found oddly off-putting -- and Professor McGonagall, looking older than the last time he’d seen her and that was another question he needed answers for, had also ignored him, though that didn’t hurt nearly as much.

Severus was also holding up a section of the wall and glowering -- also looking older than the last time Regulus had seen him. And for a moment he’d considered going to him, they’d been friends once upon a time, but that was before Regulus had betrayed the Dark Lord they’d both pledged themselves to. Besides, the witch -- Granger -- had stiffened and clenched her jaw quite noticeably when Severus had spoken, reactions she hadn’t shown with anyone else, and Regulus didn’t want to cause such a reaction in her. So avoiding his former friend, at least for now, seemed like the best choice.

Especially given McGonagall’s presence, and his witch’s comfort with her, as well as Kingsley Shacklebolt swanning around in the robes of a high ranking Ministry official (he’d only been an auror when Regulus had died) it seemed likely that his witch wasn’t exactly in favor of the Dark Lord -- though Regulus was hoping there simply _wasn’t_ a Dark Lord to be in favor of in the first place.

“What I don’t understand,” Regulus knew that tone in his brother’s voice and forced himself not to wince. The last time he’d seen his brother they’d been on opposite ends of a fight and Sirius had _pleaded_ with him and he’d killed one of the aurors and apparated away instead of listening. “is why my _brother_ and _Snivellus_ are here.”

“Actually,” Lupin said, and Regulus refused to look until the footsteps got closer. “Thank you, Regulus, for trying to do the right thing at the end.” Lupin thrust out a hand and Regulus looked at the hand then back into his face, unsure.

Sirius was gaping at them, and only the stupidity of the expression kept Regulus from mirroring it. Regulus’ “How did you know?” was said at the same time as Sirius’ “What are you talking about?”

Lupin smiled and kept his hand outstretched until Regulus took it. “Your brother stole one of Voldemort’s Horcruxes, and died doing it.” Lupin said to Sirius, while still smiling at Regulus. Regulus tucked his hands into his pockets as soon as his brother’s friend released it.

Regulus repeated his question, since he hadn’t expected anyone to ever find out -- while his brother just stared at him in disbelief and repeated “What?”

“You’ve missed a lot -- both of you --” Lupin said, still not answering his fairly straightforward question, “and I didn’t make it to the end but...I can tell you a quick version of what I know.”

Almost immediately Regulus found himself mirroring his brother and repeatedly asking, “What?” with a variety of intonation, because the story that Lupin painted was...grim and awful and far worse than he was expecting. And when he heard about Azkaban he almost reached out to his brother -- when Lupin explained the battle in the Department of Mysteries he did. He couldn’t not when -- he couldn’t not. So he reached out and clasped his brother’s shoulder, and almost wanted to cry in relief when his brother reached out to him with a steady hand.

It had been a long time since they were on the same side and he’d missed it. He owed Hermione Granger -- Lupin had been kind enough to provide the name of their witch, even as he’d emphasized her brilliance -- for more than just bringing him back and he was fairly sure he could spend the rest of his life trying to make her happy and still not repay the debt.

But then, it rather sounded like the entirety of the wizarding world owed her.

Not that it seemed like they were taking their debt seriously.

“You’ve got to be kidding, Kings, a _marriage_ law?” Sirius demanded, voicing Regulus’ thoughts quite well.

“I know,” said the _Minister_ of Magic -- which was going to take longer for Regulus to wrap his head around, “I’m hoping to be able to overturn it at the next session -- or at most the one after that -- but the Wizengamot sprung it on us all and were almost entirely in agreement about it. Given how negative the press has been, however, and of course our Miss Granger’s workaround -- ”

“Which is why they tried to kill her?” Regulus asked, measured. He found he wasn’t even bothered when Lupin snarled at his side -- after all, they were both upset about the same thing, and that made his rage comforting rather than concerning.

Shacklebolt grimaced again, “We’ve already got twelve individuals in for questioning based on suspected involvement, but that’s probably going to get uglier before it gets cleared up. A number of marriage offers from...individuals with connections have been refused by witches and wizards planning to use the spell that Miss Granger did today. Luckily Miss Lovegood came up with a neat set of wards which will keep anyone else who wants to cast the spell from similar interference.”

“And luckily,” Lupin said, more threatening than Regulus at least was used to hearing from him, “for us that Hermione was powerful enough to fuel the spell without the safety net.”

“Yes,” Shacklebolt agreed with a nod, and complete sincerity, which didn’t appease Regulus, but at least calmed his temper somewhat, “we are all very lucky for that.” He then offered each of them a scroll.

Sirius managed to read his first, by virtue of not trying to safe the ribbon it was fastened with at all, and gave a short bark of laughter. “Oh, she’s not going to like this,” he said, but signed readily enough and handed it back to Shacklebolt who shrugged and glanced to where the crowd of gingers were still hugging and crying.

Regulus and Lupin both signed theirs as well, and handed them back.

He knew Hermione Granger already held his soul, making it official with the Ministry hardly mattered one way or another.

***

Mrs. Weasley had offered up the Burrow -- and not particularly wanting to make any decision, and without a place of her own that could even seat the full range of them, Hermione had easily capitulated.

She’d considered trying to push for Grimmauld Place for only a moment -- but even with Harry’s standing invitation for her to treat it like her own home it seemed somewhat rude to show up with a virtual house party without first notifying him of the events of the day. Also with two people who it probably technically belonged to again. So she’d scribbled a quick message to him, that Kingsley had promised he’d deliver, asking him to come to the Burrow as soon as he could, and she’d followed the rest of them through the floo.

The Burrow wasn’t quite big enough for the entire crowd, and it didn’t take long -- as more people either floo’d or apparated in, summoned by notes or via patronus -- for it to spill out into the yard.

Hermione stepped back and let it all wash over her.

She was so tired and her brain felt sluggish, but she couldn’t stop the jittering at the same time. It reminded her of after she’d stayed up too late studying, drinking copious amounts of coffee and tea to stay awake...only to then find herself unable to sleep despite the exhaustion.

So she found herself a nice piece of wall to prop up, where she had a fairly good vantage point of both the room and through the windows where everyone had spread out.

Her mind was trying to tease at why she didn’t quite want to let them out of her sight -- and she didn’t -- even as she very much wanted to pretend as if none of the last few hours had happened.

Harry and Sirius were sobbing against each other, while Professor Lupin tried to keep it a bit more together as he held his son, again. George hadn’t let go of Fred since they’d arrived, though the two were surrounded by the rest of the Weasley clan now -- with the Prewett twins being absorbed into the mess. Even Regulus Black -- it felt odd to think of him by a first name, and given Sirius’ she expected confusion if she just thought of him as Black -- was crouched down with a tearful Kreacher.

She’d been ignoring the last, of course, and didn’t notice or realize that he had no one until he came and settled against the wall by her side.

She didn’t even try to hide the face she made when she realized he was there.

“I have to say, Miss Granger, for all of your numerous faults, I wouldn’t have expected you to try such a foolhardy spell,” his drawl hadn’t changed at all and it still made her think of some of her worst moments in school. She brought the memory of lighting him on fire back to her mind, to try to balance it out.

It helped, a little.

“I fixed the spell,” she pointed out, as mildly as she could, completely unaware that small sparks had started forming in her hair, “so that it could be safely used. The only place where I was foolhardy, _Severus,_ was in not anticipating the continued, awful, spitefulness of some of the Ministry.”

He hummed, and she realized he had gotten a cup of tea from somewhere. She scowled at it. “I would’ve thought you wouldn’t have had a problem finding someone foolish enough to marry you.”

She snorted, and though that was probably the closest thing to a compliment he’d ever given her. “I’m not going to be someone’s pawn,” she said, instead, belatedly realizing the additional connotations as the spoon in his teacup rattled violently for a moment. “So yeah, I chose to modify a spell that’s been known to kill to avoid that.”

He was actually looking at her now, head turned all the way to the side and eyes narrowed. She hadn’t meant the hit, but she surely wasn’t going to apologize for it.

“And what do you intend to do, now that your ill conceived need for control has bound us all to you?”

She scoffed and shook her head. “I don’t want you bound to me -- I don’t want any of you bound to me, and it’s not what the spell should have done. But you’re all here, and alive, and as you can see,” she waved a hand towards the crying and yelling and happiness that filled the Burrow, “everyone else has someone to live -- and they’re happy. You should figure out how to do that, too.”

His disgust with her was so great, right then, that she was fairly sure she could feel it creeping over her. And she abruptly decided -- as much as she hated him, and respected him, and resented him -- as confused about how she felt about Severus Snape -- she was going to chose to pity him.

Only partially because she was fairly confident he was going to _hate_ it, but also because nothing else was going to bring her peace anyways. And, of course, she felt the need to let him know right then.

“I really do pity you Snape. For all that you had a job that I think others would adore, you hated it, didn’t you? And it’s not your fault you were placed to be in charge of gaggles of children, most of whom you despised simply for them not being miserable. I don’t know that I’ll ever forgive you for some of your unkindnesses, when I was a child and you were an adult in a position of authority -- and I don’t think I should. But you never wanted to do that, did you? You were punished for making a choice back when you were a child, and the only help you were offered made everything worse, and you probably felt grateful for it, still, didn’t you?”

He had gone deathly still next to her, and she wondered if he was actually going to attack her if she kept talking. It seemed entirely possible -- except he didn’t have a wand and she was fairly sure that for all his years of experience he’d still have trouble with her. Also, if he tried to curse here there was literally an entire houseful of people here who would attack back.

“Also,” she added, plucking the cup from his hands and taking a sip before pushing it back at him -- ugh, no sugar, how miserable, “Harry is definitely going to hug you once he’s done crying at Sirius. So, you know, look forward to that.”

And then she swanned off, pleased to have gotten the last word for once -- only half expecting to hear him call after her about losing house points.

She quickly found McGonagall in a discussion with Fleur and joined in.

***

The warm thrumming in his chest turned into a pull and he ducked out of the conversation with the oldest of his nephews. His brother, still in a conversation with their sister, rubbed at his chest and glanced over at him as he retreated.

The bond lead him to a comfortably overstuffed chair by the fireplace, where she’d curled up and asleep. Her brow was furrowed and he reached out to soothe it. Warmth radiated from her skin and the touch seemed to help, her forehead smoothed and her breaths grew deeper. The tug in his chest went away, though the warmth remained.

He wanted to hold her.

But she needed her sleep, and he thought the chair would be more comfortable to sleep in than his arms -- at least with him standing. Really though, what she needed was a bed. He glanced around and considered what little he knows of the house.

“Ah, she’s fallen asleep,” said his nephew, the other one who is bonded to her -- Fred.

“Mm,” he agreed, then arched a look his way. “Is there a place she can sleep here, in a bed?”

He grimaced and shrugged then shook his head. “There’s a place she could sleep, but I don’t think there’s enough space for all of us and --” he sent a glance over his shoulder to where one of them was holding up the wall -- an unpleasant fellow that Gideon vaguely recognized. “And some of us won’t be welcomed to sleep here, I don’t think,” his nephew finished with a shrug.

“Where, then?” he asked, disliking the fact that he doesn’t have a place to take her.

“We can go to Grimmauld Place,” Sirius spoke up from behind him, and Gideon realized the whole lot of them were slowly closing in on her, probably drawn just as he’d been.

Fine, he decided, if they were going then he at least wanted to be the one to hold her. So he stepped forward and carefully lifted her into his arms — she made a small snuffling noise and then quieted again and the tightness in his chest he hadn’t realized was there vanished completely.

“It’s not ours anymore,” another voice pointed out, “you can’t promise it like it belongs to us.”

“I gave it to Harry, he’ll let us stay there, and it has enough rooms beside,” Sirius argued, voice raising in pitch enough that Gideon started to walk towards the fireplace to try to shield her from some of the noise.

“What’s going on?” she mumbled into his chest, and he tried to gentle his voice.

“We’re finding a place to sleep, don’t worry about it, darling, go back to sleep and you’ll wake up in a bed I promise,” he thought he might kill to keep a promise to her.

“‘kay,” she agreed sleepily and then turned her face further against his shoulder and stopped moving, going limp again.

The bond really was something, but he didn’t think he regretted it.

**Author's Note:**

> Blame borndead for this, even tho she doesn't even _go_ here, but she kept saying "go on, do a harem fic! it'll be fun!"
> 
> I regret so many things. I am planning more of this, but fictober so, yeah. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ C'est la vie
> 
> If you wanna yell at me or something plz make your way over to my [writing tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/capriciouswrites).
> 
> Lemme know what you think. 
> 
> Also, there is a chance this will end with her only with one of them, so if you've a preference let me know. 
> 
> And if it wasn't clear Harem consists of: Sirius, Remus, Severus, Gideon, Fabian, Fred, Regulus
> 
> I decided not to tag for the pairings since nothing really pairing heavy happened here, but lemme know if you think I should've.


End file.
